


The Beds We Make

by carinascott



Category: White Collar
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-06-22
Updated: 2010-06-22
Packaged: 2017-10-10 05:53:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 197
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/96303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/carinascott/pseuds/carinascott
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This drabble was submitted to the Beginnings challenge over at caperland (lj community). The challenge was to write a drabble (in this case 100-200 words) having to do with the first episode of the following shows: Burn Notice, Leverage, White Collar. For this drabble, I chose White Collar. So, spoilers for episode 1x01 "Pilot" are a given.</p>
    </blockquote>





	The Beds We Make

**Author's Note:**

> This drabble was submitted to the Beginnings challenge over at caperland (lj community). The challenge was to write a drabble (in this case 100-200 words) having to do with the first episode of the following shows: Burn Notice, Leverage, White Collar. For this drabble, I chose White Collar. So, spoilers for episode 1x01 "Pilot" are a given.

This time, escaping hadn't really been a choice. Though, telling Burke that hadn't seemed like a good idea.

He knew that Peter Burke, the man, would understand why he’d done this. He'd never met Burke's wife, but he was pretty damn sure that there wasn't anything Peter wouldn't do for her.

However, Peter Burke, FBI agent extraordinaire, wouldn't understand. His professional responsibilities wouldn't allow for it. He'd seen how Peter's men respected him, how they modeled their professional ethics after him. There was no way that Peter would undermine their faith in him.

So Neal didn't attempt to plead his case. Oh, he told Peter why he’d escaped, feeling Burke deserved an explanation at the very least. But he didn’t expect anything to come of it. He'd made his bed, if the ratty mattress in that dank prison cell could be called one, and he’d lie in it for another four years.

The glint of light off the red fiber clinging to Burke's jacket was like a single ray of sunshine in Neal’s world. As he grabbed for it, mind scrambling for a way to use it, he prayed that his luck hadn't completely run out.

**END** **﻿**


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